26 wonders
by BBCRULES
Summary: John scribbles down 26 wonders of 221B Baker Street in alphabetical order while Sherlock writes down only one thing. Nonslash. Reviews and comments are more than welcome. Thank you for reading.


I love to imagine and write behind-the-scene stories.

This story is connected to my other stories : Moran's journal(chapter 3 and 4), Periodic Table of Elements, Eviction Notice from Mrs Hudson, and Life still goes on. I racked my brain to find 26 descriptions of 221B and its resident(Sherlock) in alphabetical order yet recommendations are more than welcome.

Given English isn't my native language, I'd appreciate friendly and constructive tips and advice on plots, word choices or grammatical mistakes. Thank you for reading;)

* * *

**X-MAS, 221B**

After Janet stormed out of the flat, Mrs. Hudson said Good Night to John with pity in her eyes. John staggered down on his chair and wondered if he would ever be able to have a girlfriend. Sarah, his first girlfriend had ended the relationship with a word of friendly advice to John.

"John. As long as Sherlock is your priority number one, there is no chance for you to get into a serious relationship with a girl."

He might have to keep a distance from his flatmate for a steady relationship with a girl. Mrs. Hudson had also recommended that John move out a few months ago although she never brought up the "eviction" again. It made the doctor feel alive when he assisted Sherlock and blogged on case files – he loved when the detective called him his blogger. However, it was painfully true that being his blogger took away all of the attention and time.

After Sherlock stalked into his bedroom back from the short trip to the morgue, John made tea for himself and tried to scribble why he loved sharing a flat with Sherlock Holmes. However, he gave up in a few minutes when he finished the letter D.

* * *

_Why I love 221B_ - JW

**_A_**_micable Mrs. Hudson with her apple pie_

**_B_**_illy, the skull sitting on the mantel piece_

**_C_**_reaking 17 stairs to the flat_

**_D_**_etective flatmate who makes my life hell…_

The doctor folded the paper in half and slipped it in his medical Journal that he was pretending to read before he walked upstairs to his bedroom, yawning.

* * *

**Around X-MAS, a few months after Sherlock's fall**

John was almost done his packing – his things in the upstairs bedroom had been boxed. He just had a cuppa with his tearful landlady with a promise to visit soon, possibly on Sherlock's birthday. He looked around the silent, odorless, and clean space that he loved so much. It wasn't easy to act on the recommendation from Ella, his therapist.

After days of cleaning, all the Sherlock's things were neatly put in their proper places. John collected a few items of his own in the sitting room. When he picked a few medical journals up to throw away, a paper fell on the floor. He unfolded the paper and forgot what he was doing at the moment. As if he were spellbound, he sat down on the table, took out his pen and filled up the paper. It didn't take long. He tried to read what he wrote, swallowing a lump in his throat.

* * *

_Why I love 221B _- JW

**_A_**_micable Mrs. Hudson with her apple pie_

**_B_**_illy, the skull sitting on the mantel piece_

**_C_**_reaking 17 stairs to the flat_

**_D_**_etective flatmate who makes my life hell _

**_E_**_xceptional power of deduction that amazes me_

**_F_**_reezer that holds cadaver rather than food_

**_G_**_lass experiment tools scattered on the kitchen table_

**_H_**_ide and seek over a package of tobaccos_

**_I_**_-phone alerting impossible crimes_

**_J_**_apanese Judo diploma certificate on his wall_

**_K_**_itchen betraying its original intention of cooking_

**_L_**_oo backed up due to flushing of body parts _

**_M_**_icroscope that never fails its owner_

**_N_**_icotine patches that, hopefully, are forgotten by its user_

**_O_**_pen door to clients 24 /7 throughout a year_

**_P_**_eriodic Table of Elements, a reminder to stay drug-free_

**_Q_**_ueer ornament –bison skull on the wall_

**_R_**_epelling odor from body parts and chemicals _

**_S_**_tacks of books and periodicals _

**_T_**_hreadbare and ruffled rug _

**_U_**_nion Jack cushion that relieves back pain_

**_V_**_iolin that breaks the silence at midnight_

**_W_**_indows looking down the Baker Street_

**_X_**_erox that saves trips to Kinkos_

**_Y_**_ellow smiley on the wall_

**_Z_**_estful companionship with Sherlock Holmes_

* * *

Without Sherlock, the 26 wonders of the flat had evaporated. Mrs. Hudson didn't bake apple pies anymore; Billy was a miserable skull; the freezer and kitchen served their own purposes –preservation and preparation of food; the loo didn't need a visit of a plumber; the microscope and experimental tools were put away in boxes; the flat was odorless and quiet; violin lost its player; Xeros was no longer used; and the yellow smiley seemed to be frowning… Most of all, his friend, Sherlock Holmes wasn't there. John crushed the paper and threw it into the trash bin.

John stood up and taped his last box. His eyes scanned the whole place for a good-bye and stopped at the smiley on the wall. Impulsively, he retrieved the crumpled paper, smoothed it out, and pinned it right next to the smiley before leaving.

* * *

**December, after Sherlock's return**

Sherlock walked upstairs after a 30-minute tea time with emotional Mrs. Hudson. Today he moved back to his old flat from Mycroft's residence. The flat was empty for John had moved out a few months after his "death." He wondered if John would move back to the flat. That was a big question that the detective couldn't figure out the answer. His absence and John's friendship with Moran were two unknown factors.

John was in the hospital – concussion from a fallen chunk of concrete on his head, a through-through in his leg and psychological shock from Moran's death and his return... John regained his consciousness a few days ago and for the first time, the detective was allowed to visit today. Their eyes met briefly but John turned his head away and refused to talk. No questions. No accusations. No emotions. Sherlock knew punching wouldn't be possible given John's bedridden condition, but a punch on the face would have been an easier punishment to endure than the thick silence fallen during the five minutes allowed at John's bedside. Sherlock paced around the room, feeling nervous and uncomfortable.

Tapping Billy, the detective looked around the flat and noticed a piece of paper that didn't exist before his "suicide" next to the smiley. He jumped onto the sofa, removed the pin, and read the paper. He blinked his eyes with a wisp of smile. In a hurry, he scribbled a sentence at the bottom of the paper.

* * *

_Why I love 221B _- JW

**_A_**_micable Mrs. Hudson with her apple pie_

**_B_**_illy, the skull sitting on the mantel piece_

**_C_**_reaking 17 stairs to the flat_

**_..._**

**_Y_**_ellow smiley on the wall_

**_Z_**_estful companionship with Sherlock Holmes _

_…_

**_John Watson_**_ lives there__. - SH_

* * *

Sherlock folded the paper neatly and slipped it in his pocket. The paper felt strangely warm - he had never been so sure that the fake suicide was worthwhile because it was to save John Watson. He swore he would do whatever it would take to bring back his blogger. He clicked the violin case open, tuned the instrument, and started to play Amazing Grace, pondering over "how".


End file.
